


Falling With Style

by Duck_Life



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Buzz Lightyear - Freeform, Fallen Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean traces where Cas once had wings and tries to console him. Oneshot. Please R&R!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling With Style

The pressing summer heat drags the t-shirt off of Dean’s back and the blanket off of his bed, and while he’s lying there with his hands behind his bed just trying to get to sleep, he feels the familiar weight press down beside him on the mattress. Without turning his head, he murmurs, “Hey, Cas,” and the greeting lifts into the thick air and dissipates across the room, receiving no answer but a soft sigh. It’s a mournful sound, it’s a dirge held in a breath, and Dean rolls on his side to face Castiel’s naked back, because apparently the heat was too much for him, as well. “You okay?” Dean asks, quietly, because this is the third time now that Cas has crawled into his bed at night, because so far he hasn’t said a word and left Dean to struggle for sleep while awkwardly lying like a board.

Cas surprises him, though, and speaks. “Do you know the story of Icarus?” And okay, for anyone else it would be strange pillow talk but for Cas it’s actually normal enough compared to his usual spectrum of conversation topics, which range from the aerodynamics of cicada wings to string theory to the creation of tenpin bowling, so Dean decides to go with it.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says, staring at the tufts of hair at the nape of Cas’s neck. “He was the… labyrinth guy, right? The architect?”

“Close,” Castiel says in that even voice of his. “That’s Daedalus. Icarus was his son, the one who flew too close to the sun, and burned up his wings, and fell.” Cas doesn’t move but Dean can swear his voice breaks, his breathing shifts, and something in Dean’s gut twinges at the thought that Cas might just break down crying right here in his bed.

Without even thinking, Dean reaches out like he might put a reassuring hand on Cas’s shoulder, except instead his open palm drifts down to Cas’s shoulder blades, and the twin scars sketched across his back where his wings once were. Steadying his own breathing, Dean runs a finger over one, then the other, tracing the patterns of tendons and scar tissue over Castiel’s spine, touch light as a feather. Beneath his fingertips, he feels Cas shudder a bit but he doesn’t stop, just draws Cas’s wings onto his back over and over again, running through the same shape, pads of his fingers brushing as gently as possible over the skin.

“Do you,” Dean starts, but his voice is rough so he coughs, restarts, never letting up on the wing patterns, “do you know the story of, uh, Buzz Lightyear?” He can swear he _hears_ Cas’s bemused expression.

“I don’t-”

“He’s a Space Ranger,” Dean continues, ignoring the well of _oh God this is the most ridiculous crap I’ve ever said_ spilling inside of him. “And, uh, he had wings too. Sort of, yeah. And… he crashed in a strange place… and he was different… and he didn’t know what to do.” He doesn’t stop drawing the imaginary lines on Cas, and he doesn’t stop talking. “Oh, and uh, he used to be able to do all this stuff… back on his home planet. Fire lasers, and fly, and stuff. But… see, in Andy’s room he couldn’t do any of that. He doesn’t have lasers, I mean, and he can’t fly anymore, but, see, he’s got all these friends. Really good ones. And… they take care of him and show him what to do, and then at the end they all fight off the creep next door with him, and… and they’re all happy at the end. And everything’s okay.”

And he sort of wants to roll off the bed and never open his mouth again now because _God, that was dumb_ , but Cas turns over on his side to face him and says, “I like that story, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” Cas responds, and promptly falls asleep, like- well, Dean thinks, like Buzz friggin’ Lightyear with his batteries removed. Sighing, Dean shuts his eyes and tries to pretend he can’t feel Cas’s sleeping breaths rustling through his hair. 


End file.
